


Under The Blankets

by Aaron_The_8th_Demon



Series: A Combination Of Skill And Luck [6]
Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22828486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaron_The_8th_Demon/pseuds/Aaron_The_8th_Demon
Summary: A snowstorm and power outage leads to Cooper sitting on Harry's couch with no pants. A minor existential crisis and other, slightly more fun things ensue.
Relationships: Dale Cooper/Harry Truman
Series: A Combination Of Skill And Luck [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1617793
Comments: 13
Kudos: 90





	Under The Blankets

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine the winters in Washington state are probably similar to the ones here in Maine - cold, and with lots of heavy wet snow, so much that an afternoon shoveling takes five years off your life.

Harry’s not expecting any phone calls at 7:30 pm, especially not in the middle of January when it’s cold and dark so no kids are out. So when it starts ringing as he’s finishing his take-out from the Double R, he almost jumps out of his skin.

“Sheriff Truman.”

“Harry it’s me.”

“Yeah, Coop, you need something?”

“Have you currently experienced a loss of electricity at your house?”

Harry frowns. “Yeah, I got home and it was out but I have a generator for things like this, why?”

“It still hasn’t come back on.”

“Okay, I knew that.”

“Harry, I need to know how I can correct this situation. Preferably without leaving.”

Harry can’t help an exasperated sigh. “I told you, you gotta get yourself a truck, Coop! I knew this would happen, you’re stuck in your driveway aren’t you?”

“I am, yes.” At least Dale sounds mildly embarrassed to admit it. “Without power there’s no heat.”

Oh, right. “You got a flashlight or something there?”

“Yes.”

“Throw together an overnight bag, I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

“Harry-”

He hangs up instead of letting his friend argue with him, dragging a pair of work pants over his sweats and then putting on a second flannel to go under his coat. Boots, gloves, hat, wallet, keys. Going outside even if it wasn’t dark he’s not sure he’d be able to see to the end of his own driveway and it looks like he didn’t shovel when he got home from work even though he did. Harry lets the engine of his truck warm up while he scrambles to get all the snow off it, then checks to make sure he’s still in four before pulling out onto the road. He’s glad he was smart enough to back in despite the snowbank left at the end by the damn plow truck.

Dale lives in the opposite part of “just outside town” from him, which means a twelve minute drive takes twenty five minutes because the plows can’t actually keep up. Dale’s driveway was probably shoveled out for the exact same seven minutes as Harry’s before the snow filled it in again, which means there’s no getting his car out unless they want to waste about an hour and a half on something that’s basically pointless. Harry doesn’t have the energy for that. He slogs through the two-foot-deep layer of heavy wet snow and up onto the porch, then bangs on the door. It takes a little longer than usual for Dale to answer.

“Harry, you didn’t have to-”

“Save it, Coop,” Harry butts in. He’s not in the mood for Dale’s martyr complex right now, especially when he steps inside to an even more oppressive darkness and immediately decides that it’s about two degrees warmer than being out in the snow. “Go pack your stuff, you’re coming to my place until your power comes back on or we can get you a generator.”

Harry supervises him tossing his things together, clothes for two days with pajamas and his shaving kit. It’s a little amazing that Dale can have everything packed in five minutes.

He grabs Dale’s hands for a second as they’re headed for the door. “Jeez, you’re cold… good thing you called, you would’a just froze here by yourself.”

“I have blankets, Harry.”

“Yeah, but no central heat. It’d be uncomfortable as all hell at least, now come on.”

They struggle their way out to Harry’s truck, which he left idling the whole time to keep his battery from freezing tomorrow morning. Turning an engine on and off a bunch of times is one of the dumbest things you can do in the winter when it comes to car batteries.

“I didn’t want to inconvenience you, Harry.”

“Coop… just… stop it, okay?” he groans. “What do you think I have going on in my life that’s more important than helping out one of my best friends?”

This earns him a huge grin. “Thank you, Harry.”

“…you’re welcome.” He wonders if Dale deliberately missed the point. “Coop, we’re gonna get you a generator so this doesn’t happen again and we’re _also_ gonna find you a truck so you can get out of your damn driveway on your own.”

“Alright.”

“Trust me, it’s your first winter up here - all this is forgivable,” he insists. “You’ll have all this kinda shit figured out by the end of March, which is when it stops snowing anyway. Then, next November, you’ll already know all of it and you won’t need me to come smack some sense into you.”

“But Harry, if I learn all my lessons as you suggest, then I won’t have any excuses to call you and have you come rescue me anymore,” Dale jokes.

Harry laughs. “Am I that fun to be around?”

“You have your moments.”

Getting back to his house is slow but pretty uneventful because his truck can handle it, and once inside they both start stripping - they’re wet almost up to their knees. Harry immediately parks his shivering friend on his couch with a blanket.

“Just… wait here, Coop. I’m gonna make you some coffee.” Never mind that it’s 8:30 pm.

“Thank you, Harry. There are few problems that can’t be solved or at least helped by a cup of deep black joe.”

Harry pops into the kitchen just long enough to start his coffee maker, then puts on a dry pair of sweatpants and gathers their wet clothing from the floor by the entrance. Their boots are already melting into a pond, which means he now gets to waste an entire roll of paper towels taking care of that, too. Damn this storm.

“Getting warm over there?” Harry yells over his shoulder while he hangs up their coats.

“Slowly but surely, Harry!” Dale calls back.

“Good, coffee’ll be ready in a couple minutes!”

He looks out the window for a few seconds - his truck is already starting to get buried again, which means he’ll have to wake up really early and shovel so he can get them to work tomorrow. Harry pours two mugs of coffee and goes back to the living room, where Dale’s face and hands are still slightly pink from being cold for too long. Harry takes pity on him and climbs into the blanket as well to give him a heat boost.

“Here.”

Dale takes a careful sip. “Mm.” His eyes close and ecstasy crosses his face. Harry will never understand how Dale can look like that every time he drinks a cup of coffee, but it’s also kind of adorable. “Sheer perfection… this makes the previous incidences of cold and wet acceptable.”

Harry snorts. “Only you would think that coffee makes freezing your ass off worth it, Coop.”

“I enjoy coffee very much, Harry.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” He drinks from his own mug. “There’s nothing you like better that I’ve seen yet.”

Dale looks at him, very purposefully. “There are things I love more than coffee,” he insists, weirdly serious about it.

“Right, I forgot about the pies.”

“Harry, I feel the need to inform you now that there are things I derive great satisfaction and fulfillment from that aren’t food items.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” Harry argues, half-laughing the words. “If you wanted to be fulfilled, you would’a stayed with the FBI. I can’t count how many times I’ve seen you look bored since you moved here.”

“Harry, boredom isn’t the demon everyone makes it out to be. It can be a sign of intelligence for starters, but more importantly it’s an excellent indicator of the state of a man’s life, because when he has time to be bored it means he’s not in peril or distress. I’m very content with my current mode of existence.”

Harry reels mentally for a second. “Uh. Okay, then.”

They both drink some more coffee. Dale finishes his first and sets the mug aside, then cuddles right up to Harry under the blanket. “You would make an excellent replacement for my furnace at home, Harry.”

Even more baffled, Harry just sits there and lets Dale snuggle him on the couch. He drinks the rest of his coffee and sets the mug aside, then finds the remote and flips for a little bit. There’s nothing on the first time, so he keeps flipping because some of the channels were showing commercials and there could be something there. Nope. Turns out there isn’t. This ends up with him settling for _Invitation To Love_ due to lack of other choices.

“Cable’s not worth the money,” he gripes quietly, setting the remote aside.

He mostly only says it to hide his discomfort. Even with Dale not understanding the concept of personal space, this isn’t normal for them and he’s not sure what to do now. It wouldn’t be as bad except that there hasn’t been anyone special in his life since Josie, which means the last time he got cuddled was ten months ago. So this is making him feel a lot of things that he wishes were more confusing than they are. He very, _very_ secretly had a boyfriend in college, but naturally that ended when he came home to Twin Peaks with a degree in criminal justice. This reminds him of that, which makes him uneasy. He’s managed to put that issue away for more than twenty one years, and he thought it was gone for good.

This is a really bad moment for him to remember that Dale isn’t actually wearing pants.

“Harry.”

“Yeah.”

“Relax.”

He tries. He really, really does. There’s no relaxing right now for Harry. All he can think about is how Dale’s sitting there, nestled between his left arm and his side, in a flannel shirt and boxers. It would be worse if that flannel shirt wasn’t there. Harry doesn’t even know where that thought came from, because there are no circumstances he can come up with where Dale would be on his couch in underwear and nothing else.

His brain keeps turning. It’s kinda like that time a pipe burst and flooded his basement, once the water started coming out it just couldn’t be stopped. It takes about two seconds for Harry to figure out that getting cuddled by Dale isn’t what bothers him - in the back of his head, yeah, he always knew that Dale’s handsome and charming and lovable and a bunch of other things that Harry shouldn’t classify other men as to begin with. He shouldn’t have noticed any of those qualities, things that women always notice about Dale, and it’s only now that he’s noticing the fact he noticed those things. It’s not supposed to be this way. Harry shouldn’t _let_ it be this way. He’s absolutely not starting to get turned on by his best friend. They wouldn’t even be doing this in the first place if Dale’s power wasn’t out.

“Harry, I would like you to tell me what’s bothering you so much.”

“What?”

“You’re extremely tense and I can’t ascertain a reason why.”

“Don’t worry about it, Coop, it’s nothing.”

“You’re experiencing the consequences of internalized homophobia that you haven’t been able to unlearn,” Dale guesses.

Harry’s so far beyond shocked he can’t even move or say anything, and when he finally remembers how to talk again he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind like an idiot: “I just wish you were wearing pants.”

“I will if you want, I’d prefer to stay cocooned for a few more minutes.”

“I didn’t mean to say that,” Harry tries to backtrack. He doesn’t want Dale to get cold again just because he’s being a moron. “Stay put for as long as you want, Coop.”

“Harry, I believe it would be easiest for both of us if you get whatever it is you’re worried about out in the open.”

Harry swallows, but he’s also just the slightest bit annoyed. “Is this one of those times where you already know the answer?”

“It’s entirely possible. Confess.”

He swallows again. “It’s not really important, Coop.”

Dale shakes his head, and Harry can immediately tell - he definitely already knows. There’s not a lot of point denying it. Still, though, thinking about it seems to be gluing Harry’s tongue to the roof of his mouth out of fear. That doesn’t even touch on the shame. He’s not supposed to be like this.

“Harry.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not asking about this for my own personal benefit. I would like you to be honest with yourself. I hope it’s not excessively tasteless for me to bring this up, but you were in denial about Josie for some time as well last year.”

It’s not that tasteless. Harry’s more or less over everything that happened with Josie by now. It’s been almost a year. It was also a lot more okay for him to be with Josie than… whatever the hell’s going on right now. The town knows they’re best friends, they’re weirdly close and Dale is just an extra touchy-feely guy. Even understanding that, if anyone happened to walk into Harry’s living room and see this, there would be a riot.

“Coop, I don’t…” Harry swallows a third time.

“It’s alright, Harry,” Dale promises softly.

The problem is Harry’s not naïve enough to believe that. But Dale clearly isn’t going to let this go.

“I’m not normal,” he finally admits. Just three words, but they hurt so much to say out loud.

“Despite what societal propaganda would have you believe, being attracted to members of the same sex is no more of an anomaly than people who are left-arm-dominant,” Dale argues in a gentle tone. “You’re no less entitled than anyone else to feel happy and loved. I know it may not always seem like it, but I assure you that it’s the case.”

Harry mentally winds himself up. “Coop, I have a thing for you. Apparently.”

Dale nods against his shoulder. “Yes, I know. You came to this realization immediately prior to the start of this conversation.”

“I’m sorry, Dale.”

“Harry, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for. There’s also no point in either of us making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

Harry’s heard this speech before… most of the time it was back when he was in school, _you’re cute and you’re nice Harry but I think we should just be friends._ He hates the stereotype in movies and stuff that the football captain at the high school always has the hottest girls, because he was team captain and first line quarterback at his school for both junior and senior years but most of the time girls never wanted anything to do with him because he was too nice to them. They only wanted boys who were stupid, overly mean to everyone around them, or both for some damn reason. Now Harry gets to relive that experience because Dale’s going to say something like _I don’t mind and I’ll still be friends with you,_ since Dale’s too nice for his own good and so will keep being friends with Harry despite all this.

Harry turns his head completely away from Dale. “Just… get it over with, please.”

“If you insist,” Dale agrees cheerfully.

A palm on his face to turn his head back around, and then Dale is kissing him. Coffee, of course coffee, but also a faint trace of cherry pie. It’s not that deep or long of a kiss, but that doesn’t make it bad - Dale’s mouth is soft and he picks exactly the right angle so their noses don’t bump together. Harry’s so shocked that he doesn’t know how to do anything else except go along with this.

Dale pulls back just far enough that they don’t have to look at each other cross-eyed. His hand stays on the side of Harry’s face.

“Harry, I’m sure this is readily apparent by now, but I feel strongly romantically inclined towards you. In point of fact I’ve felt this way for some time.”

“Oh,” is the only thing he can think of to say in response.

The pad of Dale’s thumb lightly runs along his cheekbone. “You’re a significant part of the reason I decided to remain in Twin Peaks,” Dale confesses. “Albert relentlessly mocked me for it in the final weeks prior to my resignation.”

“He did?”

“Yes… I explained to him several times that his negative opinions of you are owing entirely to his own shortcomings and lack of bedside manner. You’re intelligent and kind and hardworking, and as long as we’re being honest I don’t understand how you haven’t already been married for fifteen years by now. It’s very selfish of me to be thankful that you’re not.”

Harry shakes his head. “There’s a lotta words I could pick to talk about you with, Coop. Selfish isn’t one of them.” He sighs. “There’s not really anyone from here that was a good fit… I was seeing someone in college I really liked, but after I graduated I came back here and he didn’t come with me. It’s kinda the problem in small towns, if you don’t find someone when you’re young you just get stuck being single because everyone already knows how screwed up you really are. My only hope is out-of-towners like Josie.”

“Or me.”

“Yeah.” Harry rests his palm on the hand Dale has on his face, not to move it but to keep it there. Randomly, he realizes that Dale’s not cold anymore. “So how long…?”

“Nearly the entirety of the time we’ve known each other,” Dale confesses. “I elected to abstain from approaching the topic until now for several reasons… Josie, obviously, and equally obviously the need to maintain a professional work environment. But I also understood that you weren’t aware of your own feelings and I was concerned that speaking to you about it before you realized for yourself would be extremely uncomfortable and possibly awkward for you.”

“Maybe you shoulda said something sooner, though,” Harry suggests. “I almost didn’t figure it out on my own.”

“Harry, you’re neither stupid nor incapable. Life is often distracting and I don’t blame you for needing any amount of time to come to this realization.” Dale smiles and rearranges them both so that he’s sitting between Harry’s thighs and they both lean back, Harry into the arm of the couch and Dale into Harry’s chest. Harry puts his arms around Dale’s body as they settle. “So, Harry… tell me about your college boyfriend.”

“Okay.” Harry thinks for a second. That was a really long time ago. “I was with him for about three years… actually, that’s the longest relationship I’ve ever had. He got a teaching degree and moved to Tacoma afterwards.”

“How did you meet him?”

“He got his ass kicked for being a queer. I took him to the infirmary.” Harry fidgets slightly. “Craig was a lot more okay with what he was than me. Course, he didn’t like girls too, so I guess you have to be more okay with it when you got less options.” He sighs. “That was my best relationship, though. The only one I ever had with another man and it lasted a lot longer and was a lot happier than any of the ones I’ve had with women. I don’t really like what that says about me, Coop.”

“Harry, it seems to me that at this point in your life you simply need to come to terms with being bisexual,” Dale suggests, as if that isn’t a gigantic and unsolvable problem. This is followed up by: “We can talk about that more at another time.”

“Yeah.” Harry never wants ‘another time’ to show up, because he’s really not interested in talking about this at all. He happens to glance at the tv and sees the two lead characters whose names he can never remember kissing. “You ever notice how the stupider a show is, the more people are obsessed with watching it?”

Dale nods. “Yes, this is a phenomenon I’ve witnessed on multiple occasions.” He twists partly around to kiss Harry.

Harry’s a little more ready for it this time and lets it happen. Dale’s a really good kisser but he also won’t hold still, which makes it really inconvenient that Harry’s wearing sweats instead of actual pants. It doesn’t help that his brain helpfully reminds him that Dale’s not wearing pants at all.

“Don’t squirm so much,” Harry mumbles between kisses after taking a breath.

Dale chuckles and turns the rest of the way around, knees pressing down the couch cushion by the outsides of Harry’s legs. Hopefully he doesn’t notice… no, this is Dale Cooper. There’s no way he hasn’t already noticed.

“You’ve done this before.” It’s not a question.

“Yeah, but…” The _but only with the one guy_ doesn’t make it out of his throat. “That was two decades ago, Coop.”

“Trust me, Harry, the fundamentals haven’t undergone any drastic changes since you graduated college,” Dale grins.

Harry’s a little overwhelmed by this, but it’s been almost a year since he got to have sex and Dale is gorgeous, so he’s okay being overwhelmed for right now. Besides, he’ll probably be able to think about this a lot more clearly after.

He starts pulling open the buttons on Dale’s flannel and wonders if it’s really the best idea for them to have sex on his couch - the maneuvering will probably be a little weird and they’ll have less room to move in the first place. On the other hand, will they be motivated enough to get very far away from the couch. Maybe they should just lie down on the floor, it would probably be the most convenient.

He also pauses after undoing the last button, fingers still on the open halves of the overshirt. “I don’t think I have any Vaseline.”

“I keep supplies in my shaving kit,” Dale informs him. “Incidentally, Vaseline shouldn’t be used with condoms, it may degrade the latex and cause-”

Harry yanks him forward into a kiss and pushes the flannel off his shoulders. The downsides of Vaseline can be discussed some other time and Harry really doesn’t care about that right now. He slides his palms over Dale, who’s so damn skinny but also decently strong if the feel of his muscles is anything to go by.

Dale, meanwhile, can do a bunch of different things at once. Of course he can. His left hand burrows through Harry’s curls while his right unbuttons Harry’s shirt.

“How many of these are you wearing?”

“Just these two. It’s cold out.”

Dale shucks both the flannels off him and by now, even if he had any reason to try and make his hard-on less obvious under his sweats, it would be pretty much impossible. Dale’s pitching a tent under his boxers, too, which Harry really likes. Dale stuffs a hand down the front of Harry’s sweats and Harry makes some kind of noise into their latest kiss. He puts his own hands through Dale’s hair, feeling around and messing it up on purpose just because he never gets to see Dale with messy hair.

Dale only pulls back enough to give him space to talk. “We should relocate.”

“Okay,” Harry nods. Dale can have whatever he wants.

“Where’s your bedroom, Harry?”

Oh. Right. Harry’s brain needs to work for a minute. “Uh, that way.” He points.

“Alright, I’ll retrieve the necessary items and follow you.”

Harry watches Dale dig up his shaving kit, then leads him to the bedroom. He’s not completely sure how this will happen, though, because they haven’t talked about it yet and unlike Dale he’s not psychic. Dale mentioned condoms, though, so there’s not a lot of doubt that one of them will be nailing the other one.

Luckily for him, Dale _is_ psychic. “Harry, don’t worry. I won’t press you to do anything you’re inexperienced at.”

Harry just nods and pulls off his t-shirt. His pendants bounce lightly against his chest as he pushes down and steps out of his sweatpants, leaving just his boxer-briefs. A condom is pressed into his palm… well, that answers that. Harry’s relieved. He watches Dale’s undershirt come off and wonders if he can get any harder. There’s no excuse for how good looking this man is, especially after Harry pretty much completely undid the tidiness of his haircut.

“Coop, you’re beautiful,” Harry blurts out.

Dale gives him a huge smile. “Thank you, Harry. Would you sit on the bed for me, please?”

Harry obliges, settling on the edge of the mattress. Dale immediately kneels in front of him, pulls out his cock, and starts sucking him off. Harry digs his fingers into the blankets and already knows he can’t let this happen for more than a short amount of time, because just looking at that will get him off in probably about two minutes. What makes it even more difficult for him to control himself is the fact that Dale’s pretty damn good at this. Of course Dale’s good at giving blow jobs. Dale’s good at everything.

They don’t stay like this for very long - that would be like filling up on cheap snacks before going to a barbeque. The second before Harry’s about to tell Dale to stop, he does on his own, because like always he just knows. Dale gets up and the boxers come off finally. Harry can’t help comparing: they’re almost exactly the same length (more or less average) but he’s a lot thicker. Which isn’t that weird, because the rest of Dale is skinnier than him, too. What _is_ a little bit surprising is that neither of them are circumcised. From Harry’s very limited experience, mainly accidental peeks in locker rooms during school, most guys are and he’s usually the exception.

Dale lies back on the bed and Harry follows him, kissing around his jaw and neck and then his collarbone, which makes him shiver a little. So Harry sucks a mark into Dale’s skin there and gets a noise in response that goes right to his cock. Dale’s pretty much the one in charge of this little adventure, but he’s also really responsive apparently and Harry loves that. Kissing and running his hands all over Dale’s chest draw goosebumps. Eventually Dale pulls him back up and kisses him some more.

“Harry.”

“Hm.”

“I placed the lubricant on your side table, it should be within easy reach of your current position.”

Harry sits back on his heels between Dale’s legs and grabs the stuff. A thought occurs.

“How long since you did this last?”

Dale makes a face. “I believe it’s been at least eighteen months. Possibly more.”

“Okay.”

Harry’s glad, right now, that he has reasonably long fingers, because it’ll make it easier to find his target beforehand. Most of the objective is to make everything nice and slick, though. Just his index first, then his middle as well. Harry fingers the lube into Dale but also rubs on his prostate with some frequency, feeling it start to swell up. The whole process doesn’t really take all that long and before he can stop and think about what he’s doing Harry’s opening the condom and rolling it onto himself.

He fuzzily remembers that this positioning is actually a pretty bad angle to have sex with another man, but Dale’s already on top of it.

“Where would you like me, Harry?”

“Uh…” He thinks, then stands up off the bed. “C’mere.”

Dale bends forward so that most of his upper body is on the mattress. Harry starts to press in and _god,_ he forgot what a different feeling this is. They’re both already starting to sweat a little bit and it glues their skin together in spots, which seems like it’s just making him feel even more. Harry’s not really sure what to do with his hands so he just rests them on Dale’s waist for now, maybe he’ll need them later but he doesn’t know at the moment. It really hits him again just who exactly he’s sliding his cock into, which is a thought that probably cuts in half the amount of time it’ll be until he comes and it wasn’t that high of a number to begin with.

Harry tries to take it in. There’s going to be other times besides just this one, but he really wants to pay attention so he can remember later on exactly how things are the first time they’re stuck together like this. Something that really gets him as he’s starting to move is how Dale’s fingers are clenching and releasing the bedding, not quite in sync. His shoulders and back seem to tighten up a little too when Harry manages to nudge the right spot. It’s just… perfection. Harry could look at this forever and never get sick of it, probably.

Just like he’s not holding still, Dale isn’t quiet, either. Undefined sounds escape from him, loud enough to be noticeable but not so much they’re intrusive. After a little bit he’s also breathing heavier, slightly noisier, in between these sounds. Harry’s hands move to Dale’s shoulders and he picks up the pace by a small degree. It’s such a paradox - Harry really wants to get off, but he also never wants this to end. He’d love to always have Dale like this, pink-faced and breathing hard while impaled on his cock. It’s a good look on Dale, really.

“Harry,” Dale moans after a deliberately hard thrust. The tone says he’s not trying to get Harry’s attention, he’s just affirming that Harry’s the one doing this to him. Harry’s okay with that and grunts without words in reply.

He’s less careful of his pace after that, because Dale’s really sensitive and therefore really twitchy. It’s kind of an ego-boost that he gets to draw these kinds of reactions, too, because Dale’s usually so tightly under control and at a strict standard of perfection. This is a different type of perfection - a messy, gasping perfection of being overwhelmed - but still perfection nonetheless and it’s really sucking Harry in with how opposite it is from the way things usually are. It’s just so damn satisfying, and he’s not going to last much longer because of that.

Harry gradually leans forward to sprawl across Dale’s back, not leaving himself as much freedom of movement but not caring either. He wants - _needs_ \- to be as close as possible, as deep as possible. There’s so much pressure in his cock, he needs this, needs this, it’s more important than being able to breathe air. His hands squeeze Dale’s shoulders even harder to keep them both in the right spot.

Harry groans loudly as he comes. It’s hard and it has him shaking and panting, still clinging to Dale’s back while it electrifies his nerves. He forgets how to move for a few seconds or even that he _should_ move; at the very least he should get rid of the condom. It’s the first thing he does when he remembers that motion is a thing he’s capable of. His fingers tremble, it takes him a couple tries to tie the end of the damn thing. His legs feel a little weak.

They clumsily climb back onto the bed and into the positions they’d been in before. Harry fingers him with one hand and jerks him off with the other, not interested in doing anything fancy because it seems unnecessary now. All he wants is to get Dale to come, too. It doesn’t take that long, maybe twenty or thirty seconds. His whole body tenses up so that his back bends and his head presses down into the bedding. One foot skids repeatedly across the blanket and he cries out from somewhere deep in his chest. It’s stunning to witness. Harry feels proud of himself.

Once Dale comes back through the fog a little bit they both stumble off to the bathroom to clean themselves up. Harry stands at the sink in his underwear and washes his hands at least four times, then leaves long enough to at least throw his sweats back on if not his shirt. He gets to watch Dale put on those blue pajamas, fresh from the suitcase, and even watching Dale get dressed makes him happy. Now that he’s thinking with his brain again, Harry has to wonder how it is that he could get so attached to this man without realizing it until tonight.

“Harry, I have a very important question for you,” Dale announces as he does the last button on his pajama shirt.

“Okay.”

“Are you one of the people who would be classified by others as a ‘cuddler’?”

Harry’s never thought about it before. “I… think so.”

“Good, so am I.”

They get back in bed, under the blankets this time. Dale wraps around Harry before apparently melting into all the right spots the way a pet goes limp in someone’s lap. It’s warm and cozy and exactly what Harry didn’t know he needed right now.

“We’ll have a conversation about this tomorrow,” Dale informs him.

“Okay.” Dale can have whatever he wants. “About what, though?”

“About us.” Dale pauses to yawn silently. “Careful discussion should take place to ensure we can achieve the best possible circumstances and levels of happiness for our relationship going forward.”

Harry snorts, but in a fond way. “You make it sound so technical, Coop.”

“No, in my experience relationships are far from technical or straightforward. That in no way implies that it can’t be fulfilling and satisfactory to both parties, however.”

Dale proceeds to ramble about this for awhile in that way he always does, touching on theories he’s heard and anecdotes from his own past experiences to inform those theories. Harry can’t always follow it but he tries to pay attention as much as he can. It’s hard, though. He’ll probably fall asleep soon.

Eventually his eyes won’t stay open. A full work day, shoveling his driveway, rescuing Dale, a short existential crisis and getting laid have taken a huge toll on him despite all the coffee he’s drank since he got up.

“Coop, can we talk about this more tomorrow?”

“Of course, Harry. Pleasant dreams.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Harry kisses the spot between Dale’s eyebrows and then settles again, thinking that the power going out may be the best thing that’s happened to him all week. He’s asleep in minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> Expounding some minor details:
> 
> -Cooper is a bottom. You cannot convince me otherwise.  
> -Average sized penises are about 5.5 to 7 inches, approximately. I imagine these two at about 6 1/4 or so.  
> -UNCUT COCKS HAVE BETTER SEX. Trust me on this one. (I personally also find them more attractive because my boyfriend is uncircumcised. Sue me.)  
> -I headcanon both of these two as bisexual tbh... I'm 100% gay but I refuse to take part in bi-erasure. (Yes, I'm aware there are more than two genders, but in 1990 nobody knew about that yet so these guys would've just called themselves bisexual probably, or not called it anything at all.)  
> -The thing Cooper starts to say about Vaseline is true: you shouldn't ever use oil-based lube with latex condoms. It dries out the rubber and makes it a lot easier to break, which is bad. Water-based lube is your friend. On a related note, don't EVER have anal sex without lube/without *enough* lube, it's just seriously a bad idea. No, spit does not count.
> 
> All my Twin Peaks fics can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=127943&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Aaron_The_8th_Demon).
> 
> I don't write porn that often. Comments are welcome :)


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